Heart of Storm: A New World
by Anniexus
Summary: The completion of the Season 3 finale as I imagine it after having read through the writer's ideas on what they planned for the season.
1. Chapter 1

Heart of Storm Part II

'Life is an adventure in forgiveness.'

-Norman Cousins

Once upon a time, when people were closer to the forces of nature than they are now, there was a group of people who were given the task of maintaining the world. They were all creators, souls who had helped form and then come to Earth in order to learn.

They were given a glorious island to rule over, with buildings made of crystal and gold. All the power of the universe was theirs to control, to protect and for a time they did. Over the centuries, though, corruption grew. By the end of its reign, the great city was so powerful, drawing on all the power of the earth that it became consumed by ocean waves. Atlantis, and much of the world, fell to the power it had drawn too much on.

And so ended the third age with a great flood.

The fourth age began with the receding of the water. Once the land was dry again, new spirits came forth to re-colonize and learn from the mistakes of the past. From it came a new group of protectors and destroyers.

While the protectors were strong, good souls borne of the light, the destroyers were beings who turned away from the light of creation to pursue greed. This time, though, they would do things differently, they all would.

Balance was agreed on between the two opposing forces that created the fourth age. A select few, advanced souls, would be able to tap into the ability to uphold the authority of their own side. They would never hold absolute power, that lesson had been learned. However, they had greater than normal ability to manipulate the threads of time and space.

A problem was soon discovered. With perfect balance, change became too slow and impotent. Rebirth, the cornerstone of all power and life, became impossible. The solution was that one side would hold a fraction more power than the other and every few hundred years there would be a great change. For a millisecond the world would return to the eternal life force from which it had sprung and return to its place, renewed with the energy to sustain another age of mankind.

But who would decide the new order of things? Who would hold the greater influence? Would it be the dark entities who sought the power they had lost? Or would it be the spirits of the light who sought elevation of the spirit and mind? A third party was consulted.

A singular soul offered to be born onto Earth with a parent from each group and act as a tiebreaker. Though it came from the same plane of existence as the spirits of the light, the same existence the dark entities spurned, it promised to remain impartial. Once on Earth, it would be free to be swayed by either party without compromising or being compromised by its basic nature. It would give a fraction more power to either the dark entities, also known as the line of Mordred, or to the entities of light, known as the Protectors.

The ancestors of the Picts experienced the coming of the first Chosen One. At first the Protectors raised and guided the Chosen One, Morrighan, giving her a loving home and filling her with pride in her people. Things seemed perfectly in order for them to take their place as the dominant force. They would have succeeded if not for the line of Mordred.

Mordred's line decided to go back on the deal in the hope that one day they would gain what they needed to rule. They recruited a warrior, a strong and prideful man to trick Morrighan. He was to tempt her and lead her to a death that would be blamed on the Protectors.

The warrior succeeded in seducing Morrighan, leading her on a whirlwind passion that consumed them both. When she trusted him completely, he told her the Protectors were plotting to kill her to keep her from choosing against them. He led her to a large plateau, a source of great power and energy, in the rainforests of South America to hide. He was supposed to then return to Mordred and give up her position.

When the time came for him to betray her, the warrior refused, but Mordred knew of the plateau. He sent Druids, tricked into thinking their priestess was dangerous, to kill her. They took her to a cave that they believed once sealed, would hold her spirit in limbo.


	2. Chapter 2

"Am I saving the Plateau, or destroying it?" Veronica shouted into the burning air. No answer came besides the increase of burning in her palm as the pendant emitted an even brighter stream of light. Despite the golden, fiery glow, the metal of the pendant remained cool, so cool that it tingled all the way up her arm. It wasn't painful, but uncomfortable, causing her to gasp.

The light doubled, blinding her to all else. Even the cold of the pendant took her attention as it spread through her body, chilling every bone. It was powerful. It was baffling. It became all she could remember, all that ever was and ever could be for her.

Suddenly, a noise drew her attention. It sounded like a man screaming. Veronica opened her eyes and looked around, unable to see even her own legs through the light. She strained her ears, hoping to identify where the scream had come from, but something else interrupted it and brought Veronica back to herself.

The light ahead of her parted for a moment, a clear image of Finn appeared. She was sitting on a gravel road, a car speeding up to her, close to running her down.

At the last moment, she dove to the side and took off running. She ran until she entered a stone and glass city unlike any Veronica had ever seen. The car pulled up behind Finn and herded her down a street, the men inside the car hollering all the time.

Another man appeared on Finn's right from an alley. Too late she noticed her danger. He blindsided her, knocking her to the ground. In less than a second, one of the slavers from the vehicle had jumped out and together they managed to tie Finn's hands and feet. She struggled, but the bonds were tight.

"Finn!" Veronica shouted, but Finn couldn't hear and Veronica knew it.

The sight of Finn being carted off was replaced with a jungle scene. Roxton kneeled between two trees. He looked battered and tired. His eyes were calm, stony even. Veronica felt a shudder at the look.

Several men in Metal armour and colourful clothing came up from behind Roxton, their weapons trained on his back.

"Roxton," Veronica moaned. "Run."

But Roxton didn't run. There was nowhere for him to go. He was completely surrounded and outnumbered. As a hunter, Roxton would fight until his last breath, but he also knew when the fight was over. He raised his hands in surrender.

A gunshot rang out and Roxton fell to the ground, his eyes open and staring into oblivion.

The image faded and another took it's place. Challenger lay on a white table, in a white room. A pale, bald man stood at Challenger's head, a shining knife in his hand. As Veronica watched, the pale man began to cut. Challenger screamed. It was the same scream Veronica had first heard and it tore at her heart.

"Challenger." The name was a moan of grief on Veronica's lips.

The third image faded as well. The sound of Veronica's sobs filled the void as Challenger's scream died away. Despair filled her, made her wonder what the point was. Why should she save the Plateau if all her friends and family were going to die?

Ned Malone's voice echoed around her. "Veronica."

"Ned?"

"You have to hold on."

"Where are you?"

"You have to hold on."

"Why?"

"These things can change. Hold on."

"I can't. I don't know what I'm doing!"

"You're a channel. You just have to hold on."

"Okay." She took a deep breath and tried to calm her pounding heart. "I'll try," she whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

The burly Druid raised the dagger, both hands on the hilt.

"Roxton, where are you?" Marguerite cried. Only the chanting of the priests answered her. The one with the blade even smiled as he plunged it down towards her heart, her scream piercing the still air.

The blade was five inches from Marguerite's chest when it stopped. She stared at it, unable to comprehend why it was just hovering above her heart. It didn't even tremble. She looked up at the Druids around her. They too had ceased moving. Marguerite looked closer and saw that a lock of hair on the Druid to her right was frozen in midair. She looked around at all of them. They were all frozen in time, like someone had taken a picture and made it reality.

"What the hell?" she whispered. Marguerite was dreadfully confused, but didn't want to waste the opportunity. She tugged at her arms and legs, dismayed to find that the Druid's grips were still strong.

"Need a hand?" a sweet, yet strong voice asked. It sounded very familiar, only a bit raspy with age.

Marguerite strained her neck around to see the cave entrance. An elderly blond woman dressed in a gold robe and jewellery stood there. Despite the wrinkles, Marguerite recognized Abigail Layton, Veronica's mother. The resemblance to Veronica was uncanny.

"Mrs. Layton?"

Abigail smiled, looking matronly and kind. She raised an eyebrow questioningly and Marguerite realized she hadn't answered the question.

"Oh, well, if you've got nothing else to do," she said. She tried to sound flippant despite the fading panic that still coloured her voice.

"Certainly." Abigail strode gracefully over to the alter. With a strength usually not attributed to a woman of her age, she pried off the restraining hands of the Druids. They remained frozen in time despite having their hands manipulated.

Marguerite sat up as quick as a spring and jumped off the altar. She landed on the opposite side from Abigail, keeping the older woman within sight the entire time. She had met many strange people and beings on the Plateau. Not many had been friendly, most weren't even really human.

Something of Marguerite's thoughts must have shown on her face. Abigail seemed to have read her mind as she spoke. "Don't worry, Marguerite. I'm human and I am who I seem to be." She reached out, smiling kindly. "Here, touch my hand if you don't believe me."

Marguerite looked at the appendage as though it was a cobra ready to strike. "No thanks. Plenty of the things we've come across look and feel real."

Still calm and smiling, Abigail withdrew her hand. "Very well." She turned and headed for the cave entrance. She half turned as she exited, knowing Marguerite would follow. "Come on. We don't have much time."

"Time for what?" she asked, but Abigail was already outside. Marguerite rushed to catch up, not wanting to be left with the still immobile Druids. "Hey, wait!"

Abigail stopped until Marguerite was beside her and then continued on again. They walked in silence until they reached the top of the burial mound. Marguerite looked around, hoping to see some sign of her friends, but she already knew they wouldn't be there. She didn't need supernatural powers or one of Challenger's fancy machines to know her friends were involved in their own troubles.

"What now?" Marguerite scanned the horizon, but didn't see anything to indicate where Abigail had come from or where they were going.

"We have to go to Avalon."

"Avalon?" Marguerite felt anxiety curl around her heart. "What about my friends? And shouldn't you be taking Veronica to Avalon? I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but I don't understand why you're here."

"I'm here because you need some help gaining direction again… and because your help is needed to save the Plateau."

"Me?" Marguerite couldn't help a small laugh at that. "Me save the Plateau? I think you've got me mixed up with someone else."

Abigail was completely sober. "Only you have the ability to tip the scale of power."

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don't have any powers and I don't see why I of all people would even want to save this horrible Plateau."

The sharp, piercing look Abigail gave her made Marguerite feel like a petulant child that had just toed a dangerous line. She dropped her gaze.

"So, why me?"

"I told you. You have the ability to tip the balance of power, though you don't remember how yet. Veronica will be coming to Avalon shortly, but right now she's doing what she can to stave off the destruction Mordred is bringing."

"Mordred? Mordred is dead. Veronica killed him."

"Not exactly."

"I saw it."

"What you saw was the death of his worldly body. He's an evil being, able to take up a new body almost as soon as the old one is killed, but that's neither here nor there. We're worried more about his son. His name is also Mordred. They don't bother thinking up new names for their children because no matter what you call them, evil is still evil."

"I don't understand." Marguerite stumbled over a fallen log. Cursing at her own clumsiness, she didn't realize where they were at first.

"You will." Abigail stopped in front of a stone structure. "We're here."

Marguerite looked up and gasped. It was the same structure where Veronica had touched her pendant to the stone and been knocked unconscious. "This is it?"

"It's a doorway. There are many ways to enter Avalon, but we have to be careful which way we choose now. The disturbances can make it dangerous."

Marguerite looked around, remembering the ripples in time that had separated her and Roxton. "Yeah, I noticed." Her attention returned to Abigail, who stood watching.

The older woman held out a hand and this time Marguerite took it, clasping the soft skin tightly. The deceptively frail-looking hand clamped just as tight and led her forward. Heading right into and through the stone as though it were a curtain, Abigail pulled a nervous Marguerite through a bright light.

They exited the light into a large room. Sunshine flooded the entire space through a crystal ceiling in the shape of a pyramid. Though the roof was constructed of crystal panes and gold supports, the circular room was white marble with no windows and no doors. The only item inside was a large fountain.

It took up most of the room and though at first glance it appeared normal, it wasn't. Water trickled from the flowery spouts in rushes, but there was no sound, no splashes of the water hitting the pool, nothing.

Intrigued, Marguerite leaned closer. As she did, a sound like an explosion came from outside the room. It was almost deafening, but faded quickly.

"What was that?" Marguerite looked around, heart pounding in shock.

"Don't worry," said Abigail. "Avalon is under attack, but I can keep the defences up for awhile yet. I might be old, but I still have some power left in me for this."

"Yeah, and then what?" Marguerite looked up at the crystal ceiling in worry.

"We have warriors to protect us, but I hope it won't come to that. Once you have made your decision everything will be reset." She gestured to the fountain. "Go on. Take a look."

The liquid in and flowing through the fountain appeared to be normal water, but it became more like steam just before it hit the ripples of the pond. Marguerite bent almost in half to examine the basin. The water in the pond itself was unusual.

Though it was certainly filled to the brim with a clear liquid, it didn't appear to be normal water. Every ripple and shaft of light reflected not the walls or the ceiling or even the two female figures in the room. Instead, images of different people and places flickered through the water.

"Is that…" Marguerite trailed off as the image blurred back into water.

"Yes?" Abigail watched Marguerite from the opposite end of the pool. She took in every movement, every emotion that crossed the younger woman's face. Despite her years of experience and faith in the general goodness of Marguerite's heart, she couldn't say for sure what decision the younger woman would make.

"Nothing." Marguerite shook her head to clear it. "I thought I saw Challenger."

"Maybe you did."

Marguerite's eyes snapped to Abigail's. The older woman's countenance remained steady and solemn. "How?"

"This is a means to see."

"See what? He was on a table. It looked like he was about to be dissected." Marguerite straightened and took a step back from the pool. She was still able to see into the depths, but not close enough to be within touching distance.

"It shows almost anything: the past, present and future, or what may be those things." She elaborated at Marguerite's look of confusion. "Among other things, it shows possibilities."

A steely glint came to Marguerite's eye. Suspicion laced her words. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I wanted to show you why you must do the right thing, even though it will cause you some pain."

She took another step back. "What sort of pain?"

"You'll see." Abigail motioned for her to step closer to the fountain. Another, smaller explosion sounded in the distance. Both women ignored the interruption. "Look into the water. I want to show you what awaits you."

With a bit of hesitation and plenty of nervousness, Marguerite did as she was asked and stepped up to the fountain once more. She didn't really want to take her eyes off Abigail, but she was intrigued. She only looked down once and became entranced.

An opaque, white mist appeared at the edge of the basin. The water beneath it began to swirl clockwise, dragging the mist into a whirlpool. The water rose up from the whirlpool and cascaded down, forming a solid wall much like a screen.

Eyes widening in shock, Marguerite was unable to tear her gaze away. Abigail strode around the pond, taking a place behind Marguerite's elbow. Together they watched as an image formed as clearly as though the water were glass. At first Marguerite wondered if she was looking in a mirror. Reflected back at her was her own figure and the room around her, just as it was at that moment. Time in the mirror sped up.


	4. Chapter 4

As Marguerite watched, the eyes of her mirror image flashed an emerald green and she was suddenly outside, surrounded by a dense collection of trees and bushes. Marguerite gasped, spinning around.

No longer was she in the gold room with Abigail but in the mirror's scene.

"What are you waiting for, an invitation?" Roxton's teasing shout came from behind some bushes. She couldn't see him through the trees but went towards his voice.

The shrubbery quickly gave way to a large clearing. Challenger's balloon sat in the middle of the field, tied down to four large stakes. Challenger was already in the basket. Roxton was tossing in a few last cases.

He passed the final one in and leaned an arm casually over the rim of the basket. His eyes were warm and a happy smile rose to his lips as he watched her approach.

"What took you so long?" Roxton asked.

Marguerite thought, but the real answer slipped away like water or a dream. She had the feeling that she had been somewhere far away and doing something very important. However, the thought was soon gone and she smiled a normal smile. "Oh, I just had something extra to pack."

"More gems?" Roxton laughed. "You take the cake, Marguerite. I didn't know there were any more in the world left for you to pack."

"Why, Lord Roxton," she smirked, "there's always more."

"Insatiable," he growled. Roxton turned back to the balloon, rearranging some of the boxes. Marguerite laughed and helped with the rest of the organizing.

In a few minutes they were off and in the air. They floated straight up until a gentle wind caught them. It lifted them even higher and took them across the jungle. The three explorers looked out over the edge of the basket at the forest that had housed and fed and challenged them for over three years. Relief to finally be leaving warred with a sense of loss, as though they were leaving their true home and knew they wouldn't be returning.

"Well, Challenger, you finally did it," said Roxton.

Challenger smiled proudly. "Yes, well, we're not out of the woods yet… so to speak." He looked up at the surrounding white clouds with mistrust. They had been this close or closer to leaving before. "Oh," he sighed, "I still wish Veronica and Finn would have come with us."

"The Plateau is her home and now it's Finn's too," said Roxton.

They had timed the winds properly and repaired the balloon well enough to survive almost any storm. They rose up as high as they expected and travelled right over the edge of the Plateau without any troubles.

Marguerite didn't realize she had been holding her breath until she let it out. "Challenger," she squealed as they crested the mountains, "you did it!" She wrapped the professor in a quick hug and rushed back to look over the edge at the Amazon rainforest.

"No raptors, no T. rex, just normal birds, monkeys, and head-hunters," she said.

"Careful, Marguerite," said Challenger with a laugh, "you almost sound nostalgic."

To the men's surprise, Marguerite didn't dispute it, but sounded tender in her reply. "It wasn't all bad. The tree house, good food… friends." She whispered the last part, looking at George and John with happiness.

Since losing Adrienne, only in the jungles of South America had she been able to call someone a friend. Her happy demeanour turned sad and she turned back to watching the forest to hide the change.

Only on the Plateau could she and John have been the lovers that they both so desperately wanted to be. He had never understood, because she refused to tell him, why they couldn't be more, why even when trapped in the cave of her dead ancestor she had refused to give in completely. A few kisses was bad enough, but she couldn't let him make love to her. She knew that if she did, he would never let her go and her life in England was too complex to allow a man like John to get too close.

Because her back was turned, she didn't see how John was watching her with worry and longing, sensing the way she was pulling away… again. He was no fool. They had come a long way, but he knew the hunt was not yet finished. He would have her. He had been confident of that when the pursuit had been about catching a trophy for his bed. He was certain of it now that the prize was a wife, a companion who shared his passion and challenged him in ways no other woman could. He loved her now.

"What's the matter?" He placed a hand on her waist, the other on the rim of the basket, enjoying the feel of her side pressed against his chest.

"Nothing." She gave a smile that faded all too quickly. She looked back out over the landscape to hide it, but it was too late. He had seen.

"It is not nothing." He placed a gentle hand on her jaw and turned her face. "Marguerite, you can tell me anything."

It was with anguish that she answered him. "When we get back to London, we're going to have to go our own ways."

"What? Why?"

"I've told you before. My life is complicated. We can't be together, no matter how much we might want to."

"So you admit that you do want to be with me."

"I do." She sighed. "I do want to be with you, but I can't."

"Why not? I want specifics, Marguerite. I'm not going to let you go just because you have a few secrets."

"It's a bit more than just a few secrets."

"Like what?" He pulled her closer and took her hand in his, caressing her fingers. "I can handle it."

"I… I can't, Roxton, I just can't."

"After all this time, you still don't trust me." He allowed the hurt he felt to show.

"No, it's not that. I -- I can't tell you. I trusted you with more than I've ever trusted anybody, more than I ever should have. Now you have to trust me. We can't be together. It's too dangerous."

"More dangerous than raptors," he kissed her fingertips, "Tyrannosaurus, head hunters, enchanted castles, vampires, witches --" He punctuated every word with a kiss; the inside of her wrist, her shoulder, her throat.

"Okay, I get it. I get it." She laughed. She looked into his dark eyes, wishing she could put her faith in him. The last time she allowed someone into her life it turned out to be her biggest mistake. In her heart she knew Roxton was different, that she was safe with him. However, she couldn't guarantee he was safe with her. Dangers from her past would always crop up to haunt her and she didn't want that for John. He deserved more than that.

Still, he was strong and he was no innocent. He had survived his fair share of dangers. For the first time, she began to seriously think they could have a life together. Hope was an odd feeling for Marguerite, but she couldn't stop it once it began flooding her soul.

Her greenish grey eyes, shining in the sunlight, met his and John knew it was over. He had won. Her smiling mouth opened, probably to tease him with some scathing remark, but his lips seized hers in a kiss before she could utter a syllable. He kissed her as deeply as he had ever kissed her, indescribably pleased as she returned the gesture with the growing passion. Even Challenger's polite cough wasn't enough to break them apart.

"If you two are just about done, we're about ready to descend a bit," said Challenger, a wide grin belying any possibility of sternness.

Eyes still locked on Marguerite's Roxton answered. "Any time you're ready, George."

----

The taxi pulled up to the large estate and parked in front of the main stairs where the staff of the house and one high-class lady had lined up to greet their lost lord.

The driver opened the taxi door. Lord John Roxton stepped out and looked around. Avebury was just the same as it had been. Noticing the familiar figure at the top of the stairs, he gave a shout of joy and rushed up to her.

"My son, my son," said Lady Roxton over and over again as she held him. "I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, Mother." John released her. Taking her hand, he led her down the stairs to the taxi.

"Oh, come inside, John. Micheal can bring the bags in." John let go of her hand and reached inside the shadowed cab.

"Come on," he said to the shadows.

"John, what --"

A feminine hand gloved in black reached out and grasped his. As Lady Roxton watched, a beautiful woman emerged. The woman held tight to her son's hand, seeming to gather strength from the connection. The largest and sharpest green eyes Lady Roxton had ever seen scanned the surroundings. She got the impression this was a strong woman, used to being in control and completely thrown by this meeting. Her first instinct told her this woman was dangerous, but the smile on her son's face convinced her not to voice such concerns.

"This," said John with obvious pride, "is Marguerite Krux, soon to be Lady Marguerite Roxton."

Marguerite looked ready to sink into a curtsey, but Lady Roxton took up the younger woman's hands in her own. "Welcome to our home, Ms. Krux." She planted a warm kiss on the young woman's cheek. "Welcome to the family."

For the first time in her life, Marguerite felt she was home.

----

"John!" Marguerite's laugh took any sting from her reprimand. The hand that had so impetuously grabbed at her haunches let go and returned to the side of its owner. Marguerite slapped John's shoulder playfully.

"What?" He sounded genuinely innocent. Only the wide grin gave him away.

"You know what, Lord John Roxton." She smirked.

"No, why don't you tell me?" His hand, adorned with a simple wedding ring that matched Marguerite's, returned to his pretty companion's hip.

Their laughter rang down the seemingly empty London street. What they didn't know was that a man had followed them from their dinner party in town. He still tailed them as they entered the alley.

The man, known to his employers only as Burke, made sure to keep his distance. He was well aware that both his subjects were expert predators in their own right, but they were at ease and interested only in each other. When his prey had stopped for a private kiss, he made his move.

Still in shadows, Burke took aim with his pistol and fired. A perfect hit. The man fell with a cry of pain, hit in the side. The assassin took another shot and hit the woman in the shoulder, causing her to drop the small gun she had taken from her handbag. Before either of them could move, the assassin shot the Lord Roxton in the hands and legs, ensuring the hunter wouldn't be able to fight back. His biggest problem taken care of, Burke turned his attention to his real prize.

"Marguerite, run!" shouted Roxton through his gasps of pain.

"Yes, Miss Smith, run." Burke aimed the gun at Marguerite's head. "I like a bit of a challenge."

Roxton made a valiant, but weak lunge for Burke, who merely stepped aside. "Run, Marguerite!"

"Who are you?" Her eyes were furious, but Marguerite's voice was calm and full of anger.

"I'm sorry, but you've been out of the game too long to try and catch up now. All you need to know about me is that I'm the one who hunted and killed your friend, Professor Challenger, and I'm the one who will kill you." From his jacket Burke withdrew a second pistol. "Say your goodbyes now." He aimed the second weapon at Roxton's head.

"No!"

The gunshot echoed horribly through the night air, the sound bouncing off the alley bricks a thousand times. Each time the sound hit Marguerite's ears, it was like a new wound to her soul. She pulled her husband into her arms and held him as he died. Helpless, she watched the light fade from his eyes, all the while begging him not to leave her.

Burke raised his weapon again. A blaze of pain shot through Marguerite's stomach. She fell to the stones, sensible only of the pain in her heart.

As she lay in the pool of her and her husband's blood, a few people in the streets began to shout. She heard a man shouting for a doctor, a woman screaming for police, but they were all too late. The eyes of Marguerite Roxton dulled within minutes, just as dead and empty as her husband's.

---

With a gasp, Marguerite once again became aware of her surroundings. The sound of several explosions outside rocked her already uneasy state of mind.

I wasn't in London, she thought. I'm lying on the cold, white marble of a room in Avalon. The realization couldn't stop her from crying, her face pressed to the stone floor.

More explosions sounded in the distance.

There was no bullet in her stomach, no wound on her arm. The only ache was in her soul where she felt the pain of losing John. There had been no gunshots, only the blasted echoes of an attack on the mythic city.

Her tears formed a small puddle on the ground. A warm hand was on her back, rubbing in a motherly fashion and a woman's voice whispered words of comfort.

Abigail kneeled beside Marguerite. Gently, she eased the woman into a sitting position, holding her as close as she dared. Knowing what she was and what she could be made it feel a bit like holding a crying viper, but still she gave what comfort she could. "It's all right," she soothed.

When Marguerite was more composed, they stood again. She looked at the gurgling fountain with suspicion. "What happened?"

"You experienced the future. I'm sorry it had to be so painful, but you need to understand the decision you're making."

Fear caused Marguerite's heart to tighten. "That," she said, pointing at the water, "is the future?"

Abigail inclined her head, one eye on the water and the other on the brunette. "It could be, if you choose to let it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You can change the future. Every person, before they enter this world, organizes a path to follow. They write their own destiny."

"I don't --"

Abigail held up a hand to stop Marguerite. "You are a bit of an exception. You are the Chosen One, able to be manipulated by the two forces of creation and choose between two destinies. The future you saw will happen if you choose to follow Mordred."

It was with a mixture of trepidation and hope that Marguerite asked, "And what will happen if I choose the Protectors?"

"You die."


	5. Chapter 5

Mordred, a young version of his father, stared up at the symbol of the Trion on the stone archway. He didn't have the pendant his father had tried to get from the Protector, Veronica, but this close to the time of choosing meant he didn't need it.

A pale light, like a curtain, began to glow under the arch. Mordred smiled. This was what he had been expecting. This was what his father lacked the patience to wait for. He stepped into the light and disappeared.

A second barely passed and he appeared in a gold and white room with a crystal ceiling. Two women, a brunette and blonde, were already there, standing just on the other side of the large fountain. He recognized them immediately as the Chosen One and the Protector. Though he had never been in this room, he knew what it was.

"You weren't going to start without me, were you?" He experienced a slight thrill as the Chosen One gasped his name. His appearance was enough like his father's to intimidate even one of her reputation. It was flattering to him.

Abigail gave Mordred a tight smile. "Not at all." Her face grew tense. "We play fair."

"I'm sure my father wouldn't agree with you."

"Your father tried to take the Trion from Veronica."

"My father was a fool. He thought he could get his power like his ancestors did, by force. I know how to play to win." He turned away from the aged Protector and faced the Chosen One. "Tell me, Marguerite, did the Protector tell you why you're here?"

"Yes." She drew a deep breath, steadying herself. "I'm here to choose a destiny, to choose who between the two of you gets the bigger slice of the pie."

Mordred grinned. "Oh, it's much more complex than that."

"No," said Abigail, "it is just that simple." She was glaring at Mordred now.

"I don't think Marguerite would think so if you told her the whole truth."

"Truth?" Marguerite looked between Abigail and Mordred. "What truth?" When neither answered, she shouted. "What truth?"

As though revealing a difficult secret, Abigail drew a deep breath. "He means the truth about your parents."

"My… my parents?"

"They were like us, Marguerite," said Mordred. "One was a Protector, a distant cousin of Mrs. Layton here, and the other a distant uncle from my line. It was destiny for them to meet and have you."

"Was it also destiny for them to give me up before I was a year old?" she spat.

"No," said Abigail, "it was --"

"Someone," interrupted Mordred, "betrayed the pact and stole you away from your family. They stole you in the night, switching you with another child, a changeling. By the time your parents realized what had happened, you were long gone."

Marguerite scoffed. "A changeling? You're lying… or insane." She looked to Abigail, hoping the woman would provide some information that made sense. Abigail's sorrowful expression made her falter. "He's lying, isn't he?"

Abigail bowed her head, silent.

"I know how it sounds to someone raised as you were. The rest of the world doesn't believe in such things anymore, but you know better," he said fiercely. "You know that many people with great minds have been called insane for theories that were simply years ahead of their time. You know there have been things on this Plateau and even in your life in England that couldn't be explained by science, not the science you've been taught. And you know what you feel. Haven't you ever felt someone or something guiding and protecting you? Those times when death was just a breath away and you found a way to survive despite the odds…"

"I did. I thought there had to be something leading me on."

"You've dodged bullets, assassins, every sort of death fate could dole out to a human and you've always come out on top. You're so powerful, Marguerite, and you don't even know it, don't even feel it."

"Listen," she began backing away from him and Abigail, "I don't know what sort of power you two think I have, but --"

"But you do," said Mordred with passion. "You were so strong that you were stolen from your family by the Protectors --"

"Liar." Abigail's voice was quiet, but held a real note of danger.

Another explosion went off in the distance. It sounded closer than the others, making the floor tremble slightly.

"The Protectors had nothing to do with it." She turned to Marguerite, desperate to make her believe. "We searched for years after you disappeared. That was why I left the Plateau. I was looking for you."

"You…" Marguerite shook her head, barely able to process the words. "You looked for me?" Realization dawned. "That's when you met Tom Layton."

Abigail smiled. "Yes. He helped me search for you and we fell in love."

"Enough!" Mordred shouted, his eyes growing black. "Marguerite, they say they had nothing to do with tearing your family apart, but do they have proof of their innocence?"

Marguerite looked to Abigail. The older woman could only shake her head. She glowered at Mordred, and reaffirmed, "We had nothing to do with it. I swear to you, Marguerite, we have always tried to protect and guide you."

"Ah, yes," Mordred laughed, "like you did for Morrighan. When you realized she was going to choose us, you had your priests hunt her down." He met Marguerite's stunned eyes. "You met some of them on the Plateau earlier, didn't you?"

Marguerite nodded.

"Morrighan was betrayed by your ancestor and you know it," said Abigail.

"No, she wasn't." His tiny smile was somehow seductive. "Tell the truth now. Who was it who betrayed her?"

It was a long moment before Abigail said anything. She and Mordred's gazes remained locked, challenging each other. Grudgingly, Abigail began to tell the tale of Morrighan.

"You… she was lured to the Plateau by her lover, a good man tricked into his role. He was supposed to turn her in to Mordred, to lure her to death, but he refused. He realized that he loved her, that she was no threat."

"What happened?"

"Mordred's minions followed Morrighan to the Plateau and tried to kill her." Abigail stopped, frowning. She was loath to reveal the rest. Marguerite took a step closer to her, clearly riveted. The rest of the story would cause pain to both women, but clearly she would have to tell it.


	6. Chapter 6

Though raised by benign people, Morrighan was clever and strong. She escaped her captors and fled to Avalon where she made her choice. Believing her lover and the Protectors were her betrayers, she chose to give control to Mordred, who immediately set about his plans to raise himself above the rest of Earth's populace.

Morrighan's lover, seeing what he had done in his betrayal, learned some humbleness. He pledged himself to the Protectors and promised to one day make up for the folly of his pride. They accepted his offer. Foreseeing a day when love would be the difference between life and death, they bid him to redeem himself with the woman he both loved and betrayed.

Though she gave over control to him, Morrighan didn't trust Mordred any more than she did the Protectors. She gave control of the Plateau to the Protectors to keep the great storehouse of energy safe. Not able to completely turn her back on the people who raised her, she set them adrift in time to protect them from Mordred's plans. Then she fled to a set of standing stones in a land that would become known as England.

---

'To Love deeply in one direction makes us more loving in all others.'

-Anne-Sophie Swetchine

Morrighan looked around the surrounding forest from the protection of the monolithic stones. From her place she could see the sun rising. The light caught the frost and turned it to dew in the trees, casting rainbows in the air and shining like diamonds.

The visage of her dark-haired lover flashed through her mind, disturbing her appreciation of the early morning. Unbidden, memories arose of every moment they spent together, every look they shared, every caress. She tossed her head to the side, trying to disrupt the painful thoughts.

"I will not be weak again," she said. The chill in the morning air captured her breath, tiny puffs of mist punctuating each word. She had to shuffle her feet to warm them.

Something moved at the edge of Morrighan's vision. She tensed, expecting Mordred or her former lover, but it was neither. A spot of bright blue light emerged from the trees and undergrowth. It hesitated a moment and then drifted into the centre of the standing stones.

The fairy bowed low to Morrighan, who inclined her head and leaned against one of the stones, watching the tiny figure.

With a giggle and twitch of her delicate wings, the fairy began to twirl. In an unbridled passion, drums and flutes from an invisible force calling, the fairy danced wildly.

It was a primeval song, one Morrighan and her lover had danced to in their own way many times in both moonlight and sunlight.

"I will not be weak," she whispered.

The music pounded in Morrighan's head. Every beat was a hit to her soul, a new ache in her heart. She covered her ears, but the drums echoed through her bones. Every atom in her body trembled with the music. Every drop of blood hummed with the memory of her misplaced passion.

Every breath was laboured as she broke down and began to sob.

"I will be strong," she vowed between her tears.

With the fairy still twirling in her joyful dance, ignorant of Morrighan's pain, the priestess took an ornate dagger from the waist of her skirt and raised it high.

An unnatural wind picked up and black clouds blotted out the sun as Morrighan's magic worked. She took a deep breath to gather her courage and then she swung the dagger around. It buried itself deep in her chest, stopping her heart immediately. Morrighan's corpse dropped to the ground with a gentle thud.

Frightened by the dark magic that had just been wrought and the smell of unnatural death, the fairy disappeared into the forest once more.

It was a long time before anyone entered the sacred ground again. Her former lover, who had pursued her across the oceans and through endless forest came upon the scene near dusk. With a cry of grief and remorse, he gathered her body in his arms. Holding her close, he buried his face in her dark hair and wept.

When he was able to think clearly, he placed her corpse in the grass. He stared down at her lovely face, held forever in an expression of peace. The cold climate had preserved her moment of death almost perfectly. Unable to stand the sight, he eased the dagger from her chest.

He sat with her until the early hours of the morning. The stars were still out, their light seeming to take away heat rather than give it. A crystalline frost covered the plants and Morrighan's hair.

The time seemed right. In the silence of the moon-lit night, the humbled warrior felt a deep sense of magic run through his veins. It flooded his senses.

"I promise you this." He raised the still bloody dagger. "I promise I'll earn your trust again."

The tip of the blade sliced his right hand. Grunting in pain, he cut a triangle into his own palm. He then cut the same symbol into Morrighan's hand and held their cuts together. "I promise you, my love, I'll always be there for you."


	7. Chapter 7

"He pursued Morrighan for a few reincarnations, but could never get her to trust him completely." Tired, Abigail sat on the edge of the pond. Another assault shook the city walls. She grimaced with the effort of keeping the defences up.

"Who was he?" The desperation with which she asked the question surprised even Marguerite. She didn't know why the answer mattered so much to her. This is ridiculous, she thought. I'm not some reincarnated priestess.

"Just as Morrighan was born again in you, Marguerite, her lover returned as someone close to you."

"You're stalling." For an instant her impatience showed itself in the glow of dark green in her eyes. "Who is he?"

Mordred seemed more than pleased with Marguerite's reaction. "You believe us then?"

"I…" She thought of denying it, but it felt like a lie. "I do." Her darkened gaze moved between the Protector and Mordred again. "Who is he?"

"He is the same man who betrayed you in this life," said Mordred. He watched her steadily darkening eyes with excitement. "He pretended to help you, but has been working against you all the time, hoping to seduce you."

"Marguerite, don't listen to him." Abigail likewise watched the darkness in the Chosen One's eyes. However, her reaction was more of growing fear.

Normally she would have argued fiercely, but she was getting old and tired. She didn't have the stamina she used to. Another volley of attacks on the walls caused her breath to hitch a moment. "He's lying. Mordred's line tricked him before, but he has been honest and loyal to you since then."

"Who is he?" Marguerite demanded. At her words a chill wind circled the room. The water of the fountain turned a deeper, almost navy blue and back again as the wind calmed.

"Haven't you guessed?" Mordred sounded positively delighted. "Lord John Roxton."

"No." It was a mere whisper.

Abigail tried to interrupt, but her voice was too weak to break in. "Marguerite, don't --"

"Silence, woman! You've had your say. Now it's mine." Mordred turned back to Marguerite.

"His family helped steal you as a child," he said, "and sent you to the orphanage. Then he used his contacts during the war to send you on the most dangerous missions, hoping you would die. When that failed, he gave Shanghai Xan your birth certificate and enticed you back to the Plateau, back to the death Morrighan escaped from so long ago. All the subterfuge kept suspicion off himself."

Tears rising quickly, Marguerite sank to the ground. Thoughts of doubt and despair warred with memories of all the time she and Roxton had spent together. "John…"

"I know it's unexpected, but that's how he designed it to be." Mordred made sure to keep his voice soft and kind. "Morrighan never saw it coming either."

A memory of John's smiling face and delighted voice flashed. He had pretended to be a terrible dancer and then spun her around and around the tree house just to hear her laugh. He would take her swimming and guard her any time she asked. Even though he had no reason to, he had always run in, guns blazing, to save her when she got into trouble.

The darkness faded a little from Marguerite's eyes as did the tears, replaced with suspicion. "What proof do you have?" She glared at Mordred. "Roxton's had plenty of chances to let me die. He risked his life every time to save me, even when I was horrible to him."

"All a seduction." Mordred began to pace, still calm and calculating. "He had to keep you alive until the Druids arrived. He was going to give you the death Morrighan escaped. Your enemy's soul trapped for eternity in a cave is worth a few years of sacrifice."

"I don't believe you."

Abigail smiled.

Mordred did too. He had a little more planned. Unlike his father, he realized that winning this battle would take patience and cunning. "You will see the truth soon enough."

Another volley of attacks caused the marble walls to shudder.

Stepping up to the fountain, Mordred raised a hand and swept it over the water's surface. The liquid rose again to form a screen and despite her suspicion, Marguerite stepped closer to watch.

A city scene lay before her. It looked much like the future she, Roxton, and Challenger had visited but for one exception. While the city they saw was ugly and decaying, this one was beautiful.

Polished glass and shining metal arcs and beams formed the city horizon. It was a thriving metropolis as far as the eye could see.

"This is the future you want?"

Mordred nodded. "And this," he drew his hand over the water's surface again, causing it to ripple, "is the future I foresee if you allow her to lead you." He gestued to Abigail, who frowned.

Roxton's face appeared. His handsome features were contorted, his expression full of rage. He was in the balloon with Challenger. They were looking down, almost a hundred feet downwards.

"How did you get out of the cave?" Roxton shouted.

On the ground, looking up at the balloon was Marguerite. She was out of breath and wide eyed. A huge stain of blood covered the left side of her blouse. The balloon was climbing steadily, well out of reach already.

Roxton levelled his rifle. He took careful aim and fired. With a cry of shock and pain, Marguerite fell, a single bullet in the shoulder above her heart.

"No!"

"You see?" said Mordred, pity in his voice. "He will betray you in the end."


	8. Chapter 8

At the end of her emotional rope, Marguerite shook her head, tears in her eyes. She looked to Abigail, trying to make sense of everything she was being told. "What about what you showed me? If Roxton wants me dead, why would --"

Mordred cut her off. "She's a liar! This was your downfall last time. You believed in people who did everything they could to keep you from your calling. The Protectors fear you because you can give anything or take everything and they envy you because you have a freedom no one else has, a perfect mixture of good and evil that makes you so unique, so much more than they could ever be."

"She showed me the future. Roxton --"

"This fountain can also show lies. What you saw were lies."

Marguerite needed distance from them both. She strode to the other side of the fountain and began to pace. Her mind seemed in a fog, unable to focus, to work out the truths from the lies.

"And how do I know you're not the one spinning yarns?" she asked.

Mordred opened his mouth, but was cut off.

"Mother?" A new voice called out in the room, one Marguerite recognized immediately. Veronica's disembodied voice was laced with fear.

Marguerite looked around, but they remained the only three people in the room.

Abigail knew where her daughter's voice had come from. She looked down into the pool's swirling water, motherly concern etched on her face.

Curious, Marguerite stepped up to the pool as well, still on the opposite side from Mordred and Abigail. There, in the clear blue of the water was Veronica. Her frantic eyes were looking all around. She looked up, right out of the pool and squinted. Her gaze focused on Marguerite's surprised face.

"Marguerite?"

"Veronica?"

The vision of Veronica faded.

Without really thinking about what she was doing, Marguerite plunged her hand into the water. Something was cold, but it wasn't the water: her hand was completely dry. It felt as though she had reached through a doorway of frozen air. She submerged her arm right up to the elbow.

Her hand felt warmth and Marguerite knew she was reaching into the vision. Another hand grasped her own and she pulled upwards. Her and Veronica's arm rose from the water, both completely dry.

Veronica, solid and warm and real climbed from the pool. She gasped and looked around herself. She barely noticed as Marguerite's hand slipped from hers.

Marguerite turned to Abigail. "What just happened? Was that magic?"

"Mother!" Veronica noticed Abigail and ran over. They embraced each other tightly. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, my love." Her voice was stronger and she looked less wearied now that her daughter was by her side.

"But what's going on? There was a bright light and then nothing."

"The world has been swallowed into non-existence."

Veronica looked horrified. "I was too late? Mother, I'm so sorry. I tried, I really did. I --"

"Hush, my love." Abigail pulled Veronica into her arms and held her. "It's not too late. Time is on our side: it has no meaning here."

"But --"

"Once renewed with the energy of the other side, the world will return to its proper place in the cosmos. You needn't worry."

"I don't understand."

"I'm starting to think we never will," said Marguerite. She was still on the other side of the fountain, between the Protectors and Mordred, arms folded against her chest. Her expression was cold. Despite the unexpected comfort of Veronica's presence, she was getting impatient for answers that made some sort of sense.

"You will," said Abigail with a smile, "just not in this life."

Mordred, bored with the women's chatter, raised his voice. "Can we please get on with this? In case you've forgotten, Marguerite has an important decision to make." All eyes turned to the heiress, who stared coldly back at them.

"First, I want to know something." She turned her eyes from Abigail to Mordred.

"What do you want from me? A decision can't be all you expect. That's too simple and you keep talking about giving you power, as though I'm going to wave a magic wand and grant a wish." Her eyes turned even colder, like a wife sensing a lie from a wayward husband. "Why are we really here?"

"No," said Abigail, releasing her daughter. "It's not magic and it is as simple as a decision. Like Veronica and myself, you don't have magic, just an ability to tap into the power every human has access to. Your choice -- all it is, is a choice -- gives one side the advantage. All you have to do is choose between us, the friends and family who protected and helped you, and them." She glared at Mordred.

"Yes, Marguerite," said Mordred, "the Protectors or the ones who can answer all your questions, keep you safe from a harsh future, give you anything in this world and beyond that you desire."

With all eyes on her, Marguerite felt distinctly uncomfortable, like a piece of meat that got to choose who would devour it. She looked at Abigail and Veronica.

Veronica looked expectant, unable to understand why Marguerite didn't immediately choose the Protectors. But that was just it. Marguerite didn't feel an instantaneous urge to choose them. She had grown exceptionally fond of Veronica and certainly didn't want to be known as the person who chose evil over good, but Mordred was right. It wasn't as simple as good versus evil. Veronica didn't and couldn't understand that.

One side spoke of nothing beyond the promise of earthly suffering, death, and the honestly tantalizing opportunity for her soul's redemption while the other was proffering everything she had ever wanted or needed. Both sides claimed the other was lying. Abigail said Mordred would cause destruction, but the future Mordred had shown was perfectly whole. And if her life had taught her anything, it was that even good people could lie when they needed something. Who was telling the truth? Who's offer was genuine?

"Marguerite, what are you waiting for?" Veronica stepped away from her mother. She reached out for Marguerite's arm, but the older woman turned away.

She was torn. The silence grew until it felt like a pressure on her very soul.

Well aware of the Chosen One's conflict, Mordred smiled. He had always excelled at breeding doubt in others' minds.

Abigail spoke to Veronica. "We need help."

Veronica's eyes remained on Marguerite, utterly confused and disappointed. "Help?"

"We need to bring your friends to Avalon. We need every voice we can gather on our side." She gently shook her daughter's arm to gain her attention. "Everyone in your life has a part to play in this. You need all of them with you if you are to succeed. You need to summon them, save them from the destinies the rifts in realities have dragged them into."

"Where are they?"

"You saw them. You know what to do."

Veronica took a deep breath, letting instinct take over. She was highly aware that Mordred was at Marguerite's elbow, whispering something into her ear. Trying to ignore the exceptional sense of urgency, Veronica closed her eyes.

Her first thought was of Malone. Where was he? She had only heard his voice. How was she to draw him here? She thought of his smile, his mild eyes, his sweetness. Her memories of him became an almost unbearable longing.

Her thoughts became what she most desired. A thick fog rose up from the fountain and solidified in the form of a familiar person.

"Ned!" Veronica wrapped him in a tight hug. "I'm so glad to see you."

He held her just as tight. "I missed you too. We can catch up later. Right now you have to bring the others here." He looked across the room to where Marguerite was watching them with a pained and longing expression. Mordred was still whispering in her ear.

She nodded and once again closed her eyes. Challenger's face swam before her eyes. She remembered how stubborn he was when he got an idea in his head. He would sit and talk for hours about a pet project. He was a genius, but he was also kind and thoughtful. The fate she had seen him experience was undeserved and wrong. She could still hear his scream.

No, it wasn't her memory. She could actually hear him. Her eyes snapped open. The Trion, still held tightly in her palm was burning again. She clutched it, the edges cutting into her skin. A bright light appeared at her side and then suddenly he was there.

Challenger looked around, looking just as surprised as Veronica felt. "Where am I?"

Across the room, Marguerite jumped as though stung. She wished to rush over, to embrace Ned Malone and George Challenger. They were her friends, or so she had once thought. She wasn't sure where they all stood right now. Mordred's voice was ringing in her mind like church bells, impossible to ignore.

"Avalon."

"Veronica? How did I get here?" He ran a shaking hand over his hair, looking a little worse for wear. Remembering what had almost happened to him, he allowed his fingers to linger over his scalp.

"I brought you here." She smiled as the scientist looked around, quickly regaining his composure.

"Malone!" Challenger had just spotted Ned. He grabbed the reporter's hand in a hearty shake and then pulled him in for a quick hug. "It's good to see you."

"Same here, but we still have more to do," said Ned. "Veronica?"

"Right." Again, she closed her eyes. Roxton's image flickered through her mind, but was replaced by Finn. The young woman had been with Veronica in the tree house, but hadn't been brought along. With the shifting realities and times, Finn could be anywhere.

"Cool. I've gotta say, Vee, you sure have good timing." Finn's voice was, as always, filled with a youthful lightness. She looked around eagerly, not at all phased that she had just disappeared from New Amazonia and reappeared in this strange room.

Veronica didn't bother with explanations. Challenger was already introducing Ned to Finn as Veronica closed her eyes and tried to think of Roxton. He was one of the strongest people she had ever met, the one person most likely to turn the tide of this argument. And yet his presence seemed elusive. Veronica's thoughts wouldn't focus. She had the strangest sensation that he was being withheld from her.

She looked up, right into Mordred's smiling face and knew that he was the one keeping Roxton away somehow. She didn't want to think what he might have done to the hunter. Was Roxton already dead? It infuriated her, this underhanded tactic. He was telling Marguerite lies, tempting her with goodness knew what, and Marguerite was believing him.

A gentle hand on her shoulder startled her. Ned had come up behind her. "You're doing so good, Veronica. Don't worry. We're here for you."

She laughed shakily and tried to relax. She hadn't realized how tense she was. "Until the end?"

"Until the bitter end," said Challenger.

"No," said Finn, "failure isn't an option. We're here to help you win."

Malone nodded. "Until success."

Tears in her eyes, Veronica grasped his hand. Courage bubbled up in her chest. It filled and moved her. She turned to Mordred and Marguerite, her friends and family behind her.


	9. Chapter 9

"Don't listen to him, Marguerite. He's telling you lies, telling you what you want to hear because he thinks he can tempt you."

"Maybe I want to be tempted." Her voice was quiet, and all the more disturbing for it. Veronica recognized the danger in that tone, like a serpent hissing a warning. Was it her imagination, or were Marguerite's eyes darker than usual?

Veronica shook her head. "Years ago I might have thought your selfishness would tempt you to do anything." She took a step closer. "But we're friends. I know you now and you're better than that."

Sadness flickered over her expression. "Maybe I'm not."

Mordred grasped Marguerite's elbow lightly. His words were part honey and part acid to her. "You've done things they don't know about. If she only knew half the truth about you, she wouldn't say that. She'd feed you to the wolves like she's so often wished she could."

"That's not true, Marguerite. We know you have secrets, but --"

Tears appeared in Marguerite's eyes. "You have no idea, Veronica, and how could you? You don't know what I am, what I've done. You're innocent, protected -- despite all its dangers -- by this damn Plateau."

"I don't care what you've done. All I care about is what you do now." Another step and she was within reach of both Marguerite and Mordred. The urge to snap the man's neck was nearly overwhelming. "You have the chance to save everyone."

Mordred scoffed. "Save everyone? I don't think so. And what about herself? You're asking her to give up everything so that you can live. What selfishness is that?"

"She won't be giving up everything. She'll have us, her friends."

Mordred laughed. "Friends? What good are friends when you are dead? Besides, you've never shown enough trust in her to be called that!" He turned his attention back to Marguerite. "Would friends always think you were pursuing gold and gems, even when it is obvious you're trying to save their lives?"

He ran a finger around her jaw and down her throat, a tender gesture reserved for lovers. "Would friends ask you to die? Would they betray you at every turn?"

Marguerite shook her head, a tear sliding down her pale cheek, which Mordred gently wiped away with a finger.

It was a realization of her worst nightmares. She thought that after years of loneliness and a cloistered heart, she was finally beginning to let her guard down to the right people, to make true friends. That it had all been a lie was more than she could bear.

Challenger's steady gaze was fixed on her. It made her feel guilty, like she had let him down with her indecision. Of all the group, his treatment of her had been the most ambiguous, neither openly condemning nor trusting her. She had to look away.

Malone's eyes were burning with a strength she had never seen in him before. Here, she felt the most shame in remembering how she had treated him in the past. She had had her reasons for every jibe, every teasing remark. Mostly it had been to keep her true nature hidden and make sure he disliked her enough to keep her name out of his journals.

When he had left them, she had missed him, had even vowed to herself that should he return, she would treat him with the kindness someone of his good nature deserved. What irony that he would return just as she felt the greatest desire to turn her back on them all.

Marguerite closed her eyes, wondering where Roxton was. Why couldn't he be there to laugh at her and say something to prove Mordred was lying? Was he injured, or unable to come to Avalon? Her heart physically hurt with the thought that he was deliberately staying away because he somehow knew his cover was blown. That he really had pursued her in order to win a war was the most devastating notion.

Looking into Veronica's open and artless eyes, Marguerite felt greater confusion. It can't be true, she thought. Veronica was the most honest person Marguerite had ever met, which was partly why they would fight so often. They were like oil and water. No, she was not capable of such a ruse.

Sensing the Chosen One's weakening, Mordred let go of her arm. He turned to the marble walls and mimed the sign of the Trion. He would not be undone by this blonde savage.

A white glow began to emanate from the white marble where Abigail, Marguerite and Mordred had appeared. All eyes fixed on it and watched as the light grew brighter.

"I knew you would have trouble believing me." Mordred stepped in front of the light. "And why should you? I am nothing to you but a stranger, but I know someone you should trust."

Both Marguerite and Veronica took a step back as a fissure in the marble opened and a body emerged. A beautiful, dark-haired and elegantly aged woman stepped up to Mordred's elbow. Her gaze swept the room. When her black eyes landed on Marguerite, she started forward as though looking upon the greatest treasure she'd ever seen.

"Wait, Mary." Mordred grasped the woman's elbow, halting her in place.

"Wait? Wait?" Mary practically hissed, her eyes boring into Mordred in anger. "I've waited years for this. I'll not waste any more time."

"She doesn't even remember you."

"Why would I know her?" Marguerite asked quietly. The other woman's head snapped around to stare at her again.

"Because," said Mary, taking a hesitant step forward, "I'm your mother."


	10. Chapter 10

"My…" The word stuck in her throat. After so many blows in one day, Marguerite was unable to control the emotions such a revelation, one which she knew without a doubt to be true, brought out. The tears that had been rimming her eyes for some time now fell.

Reason reasserted itself. She couldn't just trust because they said to. "How do I know this isn't some sort of trick? Impostors have tried to fool us before."

Mary gave a watery smile. From a pocket in her skirt, she took out a picture and handed it to Marguerite. The woman before her and a handsome man with dark hair and eyes that burned even within the black and white photo were standing against a white backdrop. A baby with a gold pendant attached to its blankets was in the woman's arms.

"My locket."

"Yes, we gave it to you the day you were born." Mary stared into Marguerite's eyes, her gaze intense and poignant. "To our daughter, Marguerite, forever in our hearts."

"Mother."

"My baby," Mary cried and pulled Marguerite into a fierce embrace. "I thought I'd never see you again." Her voice cracked slightly. Tears of her own slid down her cheeks.

Unsure at first, Marguerite stood stiffly. The feel of her mother's hands on her back and the somehow familiar scent of mint gradually worked their magic on her. The realization that this was neither dream nor lie broke her.

"Mother." With a sob, she put her arms around Mary and held tight. It was all she had ever wanted.

Love, unconditional love and hope burst through the ice of her heart and soul, washed away her doubt. Her mother hadn't abandoned her. Her mother had wanted and even loved her. Her mother was alive and at her side.

Veronica looked back at the others. They all appeared shocked at the turn of events. Jaw clenched, Veronica turned back to the dark-haired group.

She worried that Marguerite's desire for answers and her long-lost family would eclipse any argument she could make. How could she compete? She herself had often been willing to give up everything to find her own parents and Marguerite had been searching even longer than she had.

"Where's my father?"

With a sharp intake of breath, Mary held her daughter tighter. "I'm sorry, my love, but he couldn't come."

"What?" Marguerite pulled away slightly, still within the circle of her mother's arms. "What happened?"

"He… Honey, I'm sorry, but he died."

"Died?" she sobbed. She had always thought her parents had been killed when she was a child, but the confirmation of even one of their deaths was a blow nonetheless. "How?"

"He… didn't last more than a year after you were taken. I'm afraid the trauma of it was just too much for him." She cupped Marguerite's cheek. "He loved you very much, we both did."

They embraced again, Mary smiling over Marguerite's shoulder.

"Marguerite," said Veronica, her voice tentative. She wasn't sure what to say to coax some trust, but she had to try. "Marguerite, don't listen to them. You know us. You know we wouldn't lie to you. It's better to be on the side of good, always."

"Better?" said Mordred. "She's already gone too far to be redeemed by the likes of you."

Marguerite turned her head away at that. He was only saying what she had always felt about herself, but it still hurt.

"The riches she's coveted, the things she did during the war, her every act for self preservation has been proof of who she is… what she is. She is strong, free and more powerful than you can imagine." He raised his chin and smiled. "She belongs with us now."

"No." Veronica shook her head. She met Marguerite's eyes. They were still clouded, full of sorrow. "You're better than that."

As she spoke, she tried again to think of Roxton, still certain that his presence would be a deciding factor in this. She pictured his smile, the way his eyes would light up when he saw Marguerite, or darken when he thought she was either in trouble or up to it. It took all her concentration to search her feelings to try to summon him and keep talking to Marguerite.

"It's not about good and evil," shouted Mordred. "It's about being stronger."

"I don't believe you're evil or weak, Marguerite," Veronica continued. "You saved all our lives at one time or another. It takes great strength to stand up for what you believe in, for what's right."

The Trion, still in her palm, began to glow and burn. A warm wind picked up and swept around the room.

Veronica smiled. "You seduced a giant to protect me and the world from him, broke us out of more than one cage, fought by our sides just as bravely as any warrior for justice, and you've shown love."

A bright light burst from the pendant in Veronica's hand and encircled the room like a storm. At the same time, the water of the fountain grew as black as night and swirled like a maelstrom. Both dark and light tugged at those around them. The time for a decision was swiftly approaching.

Veronica took a step closer to Marguerite and clasped her hand, encouraged by the vulnerability in the green eyes. "Love is the greatest strength. Even if you don't believe anything else I say, believe that Roxton loves you. He has always believed you to be good, even when I didn't believe it."

The wind was brutal now, whipping everyone's clothing and hair. The golden light from the pendant was blinding.

"Don't listen to her," Mary shouted above the roaring windstorm. She reached up and turned Marguerite's head to face hers. "She's trying to keep up apart. We're family, my love."

Through the din, Abigail's voice rose. "It's time to choose, Marguerite! You must choose now!"

With a sob, Marguerite tore away from the grips of both Veronica and Mary. "I don't know," she screamed. Tears and anger blended together on her face, a terrible visage as the dark and light picked up more and more speed around her.

"Choose us!"

"Choose us!"

"Choose the Protectors!"

"Choose your family!"

Both sides were shouting, vying for her attention. Their desperate voices didn't stop shouting even when their lips halted. Their cries for her to choose them rode the wind.

"I don't know! I don't know!" In her despair, Marguerite sank to her knees, wishing to escape the nightmare. If choosing Mordred did result in the end of the world, then she would be happy. She didn't want to live anymore with the conflict swirling through her very soul. She opened her mouth to choose.


	11. Chapter 11

Veronica closed her eyes, concentrating on the burning Trion in her hand. There had to be some way to convince Marguerite…

"What the hell is going on?" Roxton's confused shout cut through the haze of sound and light as he appeared from thin air. "Marguerite?" He ran up to her and grasped her arms, trying to reassure himself that she was real.

"John!"

"What are you doing here?" He wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"I have to decide," she said, miserable.

Roxton looked around, taking in the two sides and the sound of voices begging Marguerite to choose between them. Coming to a swift realization as always, he started and looked down at the crying woman in his arms.

"I don't know who to choose," she sobbed, "my mother or the Protectors."

"Choose them, and you choose death," shouted Mordred. "You will never see your dear Roxton again and you will give up everything you've ever wanted." He put an arm around Mary. "Come home with us."

Roxton's eyes looked over the woman at Mordred's side who could only be Marguerite's mother. He turned his attention back to Marguerite.

"Who do I choose?" she asked.

"You have to get her to choose us, Roxton," said Challenger. Malone echoed him. Veronica nodded her agreement.

"No." His firm answer startled them all. Marguerite was looking at him in confusion and wariness. He directed his answer to her and only her. "They don't matter."

"What?"

"Nothing they have said to you should make any difference in what you decide. It's not about them. It's about what you think is right." Her brilliantly green eyes became brighter.

Roxton pulled her to her feet. His hand ran over her cheek. She leaned into his touch, drawing comfort from the tender gesture. Suddenly she could think clearly again. It felt as though a great worry had been lifted from her shoulders.

"I love you," he said. "I will always love you no matter what you decide. You know what I think, but the choice is up to you. What do you think is right?"

Marguerite looked between the two sides yet again.

"We're family," said Mary. "Come home to me, love." She reached out a hand to her daughter. "They'll never be to you what I can be. I love you."

Everything in Marguerite wanted to reach back to her mother, but she held out.

"We're friends," said Veronica. "We love you too," her eyes flickered over Roxton, "whatever you decide."

Still uncertain, Marguerite looked into John's eyes. They were tender and patient, with a deeper and controlled passion. She had hundreds of pleasant memories. Some were from her time in Paris with Adrienne, some from her travels, but the best all contained him. Mud baths, languid kisses, laughter, dancing, flirting, teasing, and long discussions all swirled in her mind. How could she not trust him?

It felt like an eternity as the whole room waited for Marguerite to answer.

"No," she said, her eyes on her mother. Tears fell steadily down her pale face. "We're not friends."

Veronica froze, heart clenching in fear.

"We're family." And with that, Marguerite turned and walked to Veronica. The two women smiled at each other, eyes shining with unspoken love. "Sisters."

"Sisters," agreed Veronica.

Together, they reached forward and clasped each other in a firm embrace.

Mordred screamed in his defeat, his powers exploding from him in a rage. In his hands appeared an orb of fire.

Mary backed away and disappeared into the light she had entered through. Her expression and heart held neither remorse for the situation nor love for her daughter.

Mordred made as though to launch the ball of fire at Veronica and Marguerite, but a knife flew through the air and hit him square in the chest. He looked down at it in shock and back up at the blonde who had thrown it.

Finn's eyes were cold as she watched him die, her open hand still stretched out from her body. She smiled at Malone and Challenger, glad she had been able to protect her friends. They smiled back.

Then several things happened at once.

The darkness of the fountain disappeared as did sight of everything else in the room. The golden light flowed around and through everything, swallowing all but the two women, Marguerite and Veronica.

In the blink of an eye, they disappeared from the room in Avalon and reappeared in the centre of the tree house.

A green light appeared at Marguerite's feet. It grew and swirled with the golden light of the Trion. Both lights rose through the ceiling and far beyond, encircling everything.

Abigail's voice floated with the wind, surrounding Marguerite and Veronica as they held each other through the final storm. "Thank you, Marguerite. I'll see you soon, Veronica, my love."

Marguerite's eyes flashed a brilliant, emerald green. An even brighter smile lit up her face. She had accepted she might have to give up her life during the war for strangers. Now she would gladly welcome death to save her friends. She briefly wondered if Abigail would tell them what she had done or why.

Then, with a bang, the earth reappeared in the universe. Everything remained just as it was before the ripples in time began carving up the Plateau.

With a blast of immense energy, the two lights combined into one of blinding whiteness. The force of it shot out in all directions from the tree house and around the world.

When it was done, the wind died and the tree house returned to what it had been.

With a sadness in her heart, Marguerite gave Veronica one last squeeze and shut her eyes, concentrating on the place she had to be.


	12. Chapter 12

With deliberate steps Marguerite made her way back to the cave where she and Roxton had nearly been buried alive. The last time distortion was still open, waving like a haze a few feet in front of the cave.

The storm Morrighan had arranged centuries ago was gaining strength over the Plateau. Dark clouds blackened out the sky. Marguerite didn't have much time to put it to right.

And she would make it right. She had learned to love and forgive where her ancestor had been able to only feel pain and anger. Her own traumatic life had taught her that good people did bad things for the right reasons. More than that, she knew when someone or something was worth dying for. Her determination to fix what her ancestor had started in her moment of weakness enabled her to know what had to be done to reverse the spell and calmly walk to her destiny.

Marguerite entered the cave, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. For a second, her feet hesitated. Despite the necessity of the sacrifice to end the storm, she didn't want to die. She forced her feet onward.

The Druids were still there. Not a single hair on their heads had moved. The knife was ready to make a swift end of her life.

She looked around the chamber, feeling the energy that flowed through the cave. The longer she absorbed her surroundings, the more in tune she felt with everything.

She climbed up onto the alter a little clumsily, her hands shaking, and placed her wrists and legs once again in her captor's grips. A single tear wet her cheek, shed not for herself but for the time she would never have with the man she loved. Would John ever find out what happened to her?

She took a deep breath to gather her courage and closed her eyes.

The knife swung down and plunged itself deep into her chest, just below her heart. Marguerite cried out in pain. The knife was sharp. It cut through her ribcage, creating a deep, red gouge.

The priest removed the knife, but he wasn't done. The victim had to be bled out, all her life force drained if her power was to be diminished and her spirit released into the very rock which was already soaking up her blood. He plunged the knife in again, ignoring the woman's gasps of agony, and sliced down her side so that her chest was practically split open, every beat of her heart pumping rivers of blood to spill onto the alter.

As her green eyes closed and her last gasping breaths of life stopped, he knew it was over. With a sharp gesture to the others, he indicated they should clean up and seal the priestess in her final tomb.

As the Druids stripped Marguerite of her clothing and sponged off the blood from her chest, a woman's voice began to hum. It started off so quietly that no one noticed, but it grew in volume and speed until it couldn't be ignored. The Druids looked around. The humming seemed to be emanating from the rock walls. The Druids smiled.

Their priestess' spirit now ran through the very foundations of the Plateau. Once they had sealed the cave, she would be unable to leave and the storm would be averted, slowly dying off as the power that fed it diminished.

Outside, a force, newly released from its human bonds, was stirring. A green and gold light, an orb, flew out from the cave. The Druids, busy with their burial ceremony, were too preoccupied to notice. Humming in a woman's voice, it glided through the forest.

The orb, spirit in semi-physical form, sought out the time distortions, brief glimpses into the past and future created by Challenger's overambitious machine. As the spirit light made contact with them, the ripples sparked like lightning and disappeared. One by one, the distortions were closed.

---

Consciousness came slowly. At first, Veronica's eyelids fluttered. She was so tired. The effort that took was too much. She kept her eyes closed and settled for listening to the birds and monkeys clamouring in the trees.

Roxton was the first to wake up fully. Something in his gut prompted him to sit up and look around. He blinked in surprise. The room of Avalon had disappeared. He was back in the tree house. Around him, the other occupants of the tree house were coming awake again.

"What happened?" Challenger's groggy voice came from the lab. He appeared in the doorway as the others forced themselves to stand.

"Malone!" Roxton, who hadn't been able to properly greet the reporter, rushed over. They shook hands and embraced.

"Roxton, it's good to see you again."

"Same here." They broke apart so the others, Veronica in particular, could likewise show their happiness at reunion.

As the others surrounded each other, chattering happily, something niggled in the back of Roxton's mind. It took him a minute to figure out what… or rather who was missing. John looked around, jubilation still written in his every expression and movement. "Marguerite?"

No one answered.

"Marguerite?" Concern crept into his voice now. He ran downstairs, hoping she was in her bedroom. His smile faded when he pushed aside the bedroom drapes and no one was there. Roxton began to worry in earnest.

Heart pounding in an unexplainable fear, he ran through all the rooms downstairs. Taking the stairs two at a time, he ran back into the main living room. He searched in every nook and behind every corner. The others had noticed his frantic search and were taking their own look around, but she wasn't there.

Finn and Veronica had gone down to the forest floor to try and spot some sign of Marguerite. The elevator came back up, both blondes shaking their heads before the question was even asked.

"Where the hell can she be?"

"There, now, Roxton, I'm sure she's all right." Challenger placed his hand on Roxton's shoulder.

Normally this would have at least calmed him enough so he could think straight, but his mind remained turbulent. He couldn't focus. Something was wrong, horribly wrong. The problem was he didn't know what was wrong or how to help her.

The others huddled together, arguing over the hundreds of places Marguerite could have been transported to. They had ended up in the tree house. Logic suggested Marguerite should be close by as well.

"The cave." The sentence was a whisper, much like the thought it had sprung from. No one heard him. "I know where she is," he said louder.

"Where?" Finn asked, but Roxton was already up and gone.

"The cave we were buried in together." Frantic, he searched around for his rifle. It had to be around here somewhere.

His ears didn't hear any other movement and he looked up in irritation at the others, who were standing still. They looked at him with confusion and surprise. "What are you waiting for?" he shouted. "We have to get her."

"Roxton," said Veronica, "what makes you think she's there?"

"I don't know! What does it matter? We need to get going!" Their complete lack of urgency hurt him. Did they not realize that she was in danger? "Or maybe you don't care," he said, unable to stop the angry words. "Have you already forgotten what she just did for us?"

His expression turned as cold as ice as his voice rose. "She gave up the only thing she's ever wanted so that we could live. Doesn't that count for something?"

"That's not what I meant, Roxton." Veronica tried to calm her own anger. "That's not what I meant at all."

Uncontrolled fear wasn't something he was used to. It made him edgy and forget that they didn't have the same intuition. He glared as he brushed past them, ignoring their protests.

"John," said Challenger, "of course we care, but we can't just go running around the jungle without thinking this through."

"Yeah, she could be anywhere," said Finn.

There it was. Roxton snatched his rifle and hat off the floor and ran for the elevator. He would go alone if he had to.

Relief and a bit of pride soothed his panicked heart when the others quickly followed. They had never been as close to Marguerite as Roxton. She had never allowed them to see the side of herself that wasn't challenging or manipulative. Hiding the best of herself was her defence against being hurt. Only Roxton had been allowed to see the softer side because he coaxed it from her with sternness and faith. He hoped it wasn't too late for them to see what he had.


	13. Chapter 13

They ran as though a pack of raptors hunted them, spurred on by Roxton's desperation. The clouds of the storm had passed, allowing the heat of the day to bear down on them. They were all sweating profusely by the time the hill came into sight.

Roxton kept running though every part of his body was on fire. The only thought in his mind was to keep going until he could see Marguerite. Sweat running down her back, Veronica was close on his heels.

A time distortion sat a several meters in front of the cave, shimmering innocently. The vegetation was much shorter, allowing full view of the cave's entrance. None of the explorers slowed, well aware that no matter where the portal led, they would have to go through it.

Before they got within a hundred yards of the portal, a robed man peeked out from the cave. He gave a shout of warning and a group of the robed men exited the cave, five in all. They looked through the portal, saw the strangers running for them, and took off into the forest.

If he hadn't felt such fear, Roxton would have gone after the Druids, certain they had something to do with Marguerite's disappearance. As it was, he kept on going.

Feet slipped on the loose sand of the floor. A callused hand gripped stone, giving leverage to swing the hunter around a corner. One powerful leap sent him overtop a chiselled stone door, the same Marguerite had interpreted before the explosion caved them both inside. A second later and Roxton was inside the largest cavern. His heart lurched.

"Oh, my." The small cry came from Veronica, who had skidded to a halt less than a second behind Roxton. Her eyes took in the gore, expression filled with horror.

A pool of blood dripped from the grooves of the altar onto the stone floor, soaking into the sand. A shining dagger, covered to the hilt in blood lay on the ground. And there, in the narrow hole where they had found the body, lay a woman's figure wrapped in linen.

Finn, Malone, and Challenger entered, clutching their sides and panting.

"Good God!" Challenger caught sight of the altar. He approached it cautiously, repulsed. "There's enough blood here to…" He trailed off, noticing what Roxton and Veronica were staring, frozen in place, at.

"It's not…" Malone couldn't get her name out. To say it would make it true and it couldn't be true. Of all of them, Malone had believed Marguerite to be the one who could survive anything.

Veronica couldn't approach. If she didn't look, then there would always be the hope that Marguerite, that most unexpected and enigmatic of friends, was still alive.

Roxton didn't have the luxury of pretending everything was all right. Head to toe he trembled, remembering the birthmark on the ancient corpse. It can't be, he thought. Please, I don't want to live without her.

One step and then another. Roxton was within reach of the clean, dry cloth that enfolded the female form.

"Challenger, look at this." Finn's hushed voice came from the other side of the altar.

Curious, Challenger and Malone joined her. Folded in a neat pile on the floor and also coated in blood were Marguerite's clothes.

With the same delicacy as he would have shown in disrobing her in life, Roxton unwrapped the shroud around the figure's head. As he came down to the last layer, his fingers began to shake too much.

A pair of female hands clasped his, taking over his job. "Let me," said Veronica. Her voice was kind, muffled with her silently falling tears. With the same tenderness as Roxton, she took away the bindings from the corpse and revealed the pale, peaceful face of Marguerite.

"No." His exclamation was not a shout or scream but a mournful groan. With a sob, Roxton dropped his head to Marguerite's bloodless face. He kissed her cheek, her forehead, her pale lips.

---

When he couldn't bare to linger anymore, Roxton replaced the wrappings and gathered her soiled clothing. She wouldn't need them anymore. As a last thought, he also took up her locket, clasping it tight in his fist. It would be his way of remembering her, not that he needed a memento to remember the spitfire.

Together, he and Malone lifted the stone that would seal her body inside the tiny chamber and pushed it in as tight as they could, hoping to protect her body from as much of the decaying air as possible. Finn and Challenger, crying unashamedly, helped Veronica raise the stone doorway to block the tomb's entrance.

His eyes dry, Roxton stared one last time at the inscription on the door. He didn't want to leave her in there, all alone and guarded by stone and a dogmatic quotation.

The thought that he was interring her soul forever in the cave flickered briefly in his mind, but his instincts told him it was the right thing to do. She would be safe here.

---

Twilight fell by the time the spirit returned to the cave. It entered the distortion, the last one, and slipped into the tunnel, gliding through the tiny cracks between the rocks that blocked the doorway.

It felt brief amusement that the Druids thought sealing the tomb would hold her spirit. Humans, once they had descended to this plane of existence, were so foolish. They forgot so much that it was a wonder how they managed to get along at all.

If the spirit could have sighed, it would have.

Soon it too would forget and return to this life to fulfill the destiny it had chosen. It didn't wish to, though it had performed deep magic in order to do so.

The spirit floated overtop the bloody altar. Without pen or chisel, it inscribed ancient words into the underside of the rock, setting up for when it would be reborn into its weaker, imperfect body.

Almost more than anything it wanted to return home, to its true home beyond this life where everything was light, love, and eternity. But there was still more to do here, much more to learn. Still, it experienced a moment of hesitation.

The spirit remembered the love it had shared on this plane of existence. Its lover had been called John Roxton in this life. The spirit remembered him well. They had shared many lives together.

Yes, there were good things here too. It could wait to rejoin the light of eternity, the home where all creatures and people were united and in peace. After all, time was but a perception. It would not be too long.

Needing a more physical form to accomplish its work, the spirit took a human-like form, appearing pale and ghostly without solid features. It was neither apparition nor fully human, but it could manipulate matter and that was all it needed. Its first task was to remove the body of Marguerite Krux from the tomb.

Then, calling on its powers over time and space, the spirit waved its pale arm through the air. A glowing light appeared in the water of the pool, showing a familiar scene from centuries ago. The priestess Morrighan lay dead on the ground, surrounded by the powerful stones of Avebury, her dead lover, and the stars.

Reaching through the light, the spirit grasped Morrighan's arm and pulled. The body slid through the vision and into the present reality as easily as pulling a weed from a garden. It took Morrighan's body and lay it on the ground.

The spirit then stripped both Morrighan and the body of Marguerite Krux of their coverings and switched them. Both women looked so much alike that it was shocking. They were identical right down to the birthmark, a genetic symbol of the Chosen One's heritage that only appeared in the skin of the one who would have to choose.

Soon both women were once again covered, this time in each other's garments. The spirit then picked up Marguerite's corpse and took it down to the pool of water. It allowed the body to sink below the surface and disappear into the blue.

The spirit placed Morrighan in her tomb and resealed it to await rediscovery in another time.

With nothing else to do and the timeline restored to what it should be, the spirit moved to the back of the cavern. The entire cave burst with light as the spirit dove into the pool of water.


	14. Chapter 14

"Well, Malone, we'll miss you. Are you sure you won't come with us?"

Ned Malone shared a happy smile with Veronica. "No, I've got everything I could ever want or need right here."

"Veronica?"

"I'm sorry, Challenger, but this is my home," she said. She squinted in the bright sunlight at the balloon, her friend's ticket home. Though she had Finn and Malone still, she was going to miss Challenger and Roxton, even Marguerite.

"How about you, Finn?" asked Roxton. His voice still sounded raw from his night of mourning, but he smiled just the same.

Finn stepped up to Veronica's side. "Sorry, but I like it here." She looked at the surrounding jungle, acres of it visible from their perch on a knoll. "Besides, I don't think your world is ready for me. This place is more my style."

"Well, then," Challenger gave her a hug, "I'll leave you to it. Be careful, Finn. And don't slack in your studies."

She laughed. "I won't. I promise."

"Goodbye, Malone."

"Goodbye, Roxton. Thanks for everything you've done for me."

"Same here. Things just won't feel the same without everyone all together." They shook hands. When they let go, Veronica stepped up and gathered Roxton in a firm hug.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" Her breath hitched even with the quiet words. She felt she had never been so sad in her life to see someone return home.

Roxton pulled away so he could look into her eyes, trying to convey his feelings without words. She had to know he loved the Plateau and his friends, but it was just too painful to stay. Even mud holes reminded him of Marguerite. Her light laughter and darker passions seemed embedded in the very foundations of the Plateau. In his pocket the weight of her locket was a comfort.

"I'm sorry, Veronica, but there's nothing here for me anymore."

Veronica nodded, her own eyes burning as Roxton pulled her closer. She wished he would never let go because as soon as he did, he and Challenger would leave. "I'll miss you so much. I love you, I love you all."

Roxton kissed Veronica's cheek, sorry to say goodbye to one of the truest friends he had ever had. "Take care of them," he said, meaning Ned and Finn.

"I will," she promised.

---

At first all she could feel was coldness. The world felt like it was spinning around and around her, tipping her upside down and over until she didn't know which way to turn. Something was wrong. Though she had no conscious thought, this felt wrong.

By instinct, she reached in one direction. Her arms and legs felt heavy, dragging through what she realized was chilly water. Suddenly, her arms were free and floundering in the air.

With a great deal of coughing, Marguerite surfaced, spitting up water she had swallowed. Wherever she was, it was dark… or she was blind. For a minute, the only thing she knew was that it was dark, cold, and he was treading water.

"Hello?"

Silence.

"Is anyone there?" She called feebly, "John?"

In reaching out, she discovered the water was only a small pool. Her fingers scraped against the rock wall, causing her to cry out in surprise. Grasping the rock, she managed to pull herself up.

Her body scraped against the rough floor as she clambered out of the pond. Uncertain how high the ceiling of the cave was, she reached out a hand as high as it would go, slowly standing as her hand met no resistance. She was relieved to find whatever cavern this was, she could at least stand up in it.

Marguerite took a step forward, groping blindly in the dark, hoping to find a wall and not a chasm.

Her leg hit something hard, a stone table. Her scraped hand ran along the edge. She unknowingly spread her blood overtop runes at the edge of the altar, runes that would fade with time as water and gas wore away at the rock. Her blood soaked into the written charms, as though they were parched soil in a spring rain.

As the last drop of blood disappeared, a bright flash of green and gold light exploded in the air. It sparked and fizzled, blinding her. An arm, flung up to protect her eyes, was of little help.

It was a full ten minutes before Marguerite could see again. She had to blink rapidly to clear her vision of the colourful orbs and splotches that danced around her head. Uttering a few choice words, she stood. In shock, she froze.

The entire cave had changed. It appeared to be the same cave she and John had blown up in their bid for freedom after hours of being trapped behind boulders.

Marguerite looked down, shocked at the unusual clothing she had on. While the red cloth was comfy and soft, perhaps a bit more revealing than she would normally have liked, they most certainly weren't her clothes. What was worse, she couldn't remember how she got into them. She couldn't help but notice she was also missing shoes.

Rays of sunshine caught her attention and she looked up. Scorched rubble littered the slightly collapsed cavern and light illuminated everything, courtesy of a long, narrow tunnel leading up to the sky.


	15. Chapter 15

With some last hugs, a few last touches and parting words between them all, Challenger and Roxton jumped into the basket. Ned untied the ropes of the balloon and watched as it slowly rose and drifted away.

They floated steadily across the Plateau, remarking here and there on familiar landscapes. Both men fell into an uneasy silence as they flew closer to their destination.

They were just about to climb higher when something caught Roxton's attention.

---

Covered in dirt, blood and wearing a torn shirt that wouldn't have been out of place in a belly dancer's wardrobe, Marguerite was a pathetic sight. She trudged through the jungle, weary and confused. Her bare feet were cramped and sore, but she kept them moving in the direction of the tree house. The thought of a shower and sleep had never been more appealing.

Memories swirled through her mind as she walked. They were like half-formed dreams, each memory more confusing than the last. The last thing she remembered was the falling knife, sensations of warm and cold, wind and water, light and dark. She had the strangest feeling she had seen Veronica standing next to a fountain, but couldn't remember where or when.

Howler monkeys barked at her from high in the canopy. She took an uninterested glance in their direction and pulled up short. The smooth, white top of something huge was visible through the treetops.

The balloon! Weariness forgotten, Marguerite ran as fast as she could. She didn't notice anything else around her, not even the lazy brachiosaurus she passed as it chewed leaves like cud.

Fast loosing the last of her energy, Marguerite burst through the foliage and onto the fringe of a small meadow.

She was too late. They were in the air already. Panting, Marguerite stared up at the balloon and the two familiar figures in the basket.

"Roxton," she whispered. How could he leave without me?

A shout from the balloon raised her hopes. They had seen her. Roxton shouted her name. His voice had never sounded so sweet to her ears.

"John!" she shouted.

"Marguerite! You're alive!" Wild joy and disbelief washed through Roxton even as he wondered where she had gotten such unusual clothes. "How did you get out of the cave?"

Something nagged at Marguerite's memory, but it was quickly lost in her excitement.

"I don't know," she shouted as she ran for the balloon. She was almost beneath it, but they were too high for her to reach, about a hundred feet above her.

Without warning an arrow shot past, just missing her arm.

"Marguerite, look out!" Roxton turned to get his rifle as a party of head hunters emerged from the jungle. Even at first glance, he knew there were too many to shoot, but he would still try.

She was directly below them now. "John!"

Challenger's gun picked off a few of her pursuers, but more were closing in. A dozen more arrows narrowly missed her.

"Lower us down, Challenger!" Another shot rang out.

A wind picked up, lifting the balloon.

Challenger was already fiddling with the machinery, but they were climbing higher. "I'm trying."

"Challenger, get us closer!" Another bullet and another hunter fell. Marguerite's shouts for him were getting more desperate, more frightened.

"Challenger!" he roared. Roxton turned, furious that his commands weren't being heeded. The sight of Challenger struggling futilely against the updraft that had caught them made his stomach clench.

"I can't, John. I'm sorry." And he did look sorry, but this was something he simply could not fight.

Roxton looked back over the basket edge. Marguerite was unarmed, staring up at him. He could read her heartbreak in her expression.

A head hunter came up fast behind her. She didn't even notice him, and wouldn't have been able to do much if she had.

Roxton raised his rifle. He took steady aim. If he missed, it would be her death. His finger pulled at the trigger just as the wind shifted, jostling the basket.

The explosion of the rifle couldn't be stopped, and neither could the bullet as it missed its mark and hit Marguerite in the shoulder above her heart. Roxton's blood ran cold as she gave a grunt of pain and fell back. In an instant she was surrounded by the horde of painted men.

Roxton screamed. After all they had been through together, all that had happened to them on the Plateau and history was going to repeat itself. It was his older brother's death all over again.

"Get us back there, Challenger!"

"I can't, John! I'm trying, but I can't. The wind has us now."

Despite their continuing shots, Challenger and Roxton could do nothing. The balloon rose too swiftly.

Pulled like a magnet, the balloon hit a wall of cloud that marked the edge of the Plateau and disappeared into it. Their last view of the Plateau was of trees and blue sky being swallowed by grey mist, like the end of some fantastic dream.


	16. Chapter 16

'Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. Security does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than exposure.'

-Helen Keller

Marguerite lay in the grass, feeling the sting of the bullet and seeing sky. Nothing else registered in her mind beyond either of those two sensations. Painted faces surrounded her. Beyond them, the balloon was disappearing. She blinked and it was gone.

One of the natives raised a spear above her chest.

Her eyes closed briefly as Marguerite allowed the familiar ache of a broken heart to numb the physical pains. She could feel the tension in the arms that held her down. Through closed lids, she could see the man who held the spear. He revelled in her despair, in her helplessness, in his victory over his prey…

Her eyes snapped open, sadness gone, replaced with a fierce anger. Green eyes met brown. Even in the sunlight, the natives clearly saw the green flash brightly.

The hunter holding the spear froze. She was staring at him and he was powerless to look away. The green of her eyes became like the flames of a fire. It entranced and horrified him.

Fear clouded his mind, freezing him in place. He never even heard the gunshot that took his life.

Another shot from the tree line and another of the hunting party fell. By the time they realized where the attack was coming from, three more of their group had fallen, these from arrows and a knife. Their comrades dying fast, the rest of the hunting party ran.

From the trees, weapons raised came Veronica, Finn, and Malone. They rushed into the clearing, gazes sweeping the sky and around the tall grass in confusion. They had heard gunshots and assumed it was from Roxton and Challenger, but there was no sign of the balloon.

"Guys," said Finn, a note of uncertainty in her voice, "you might want to see this." She stood next to the bodies of the men picked off by Ned's rifle.

Veronica and Ned drew closer, briefly wondering why there were so many bodies when they had only managed to hit about five. Part of the answer emerged when they saw what Finn was standing over.

"Marguerite?" Ned sounded as confused as Veronica felt. He knelt by the still, unconscious form of their friend and placed two fingers on her jugular.

"She was dead, right?" Finn shifted her feet, staying a safe distance from the body. She half wanted to run and half to help, but she couldn't squash the feeling that something bad was going to happen.

Veronica nodded. "I know she was. Half her chest was cut open."

"She's alive." Ned looked up at them, shocked and confused.

Just then, Marguerite's eyes opened and tried to focus on the people now kneeling at her side. Her head felt so light that it was difficult to think. A pain in the left shoulder led her to believe the cause of her wooziness was blood loss.

"Marguerite…" Veronica patted her friend's cheek to gain her attention. "Marguerite, do you know where you are?"

She licked pale lips. "The damn Plateau. Ahh…" she groaned, sitting up.

"Careful." Veronica placed a hand on Marguerite's arm, trying to push her back down. "You've lost a lot of blood and we need to take care of that arm."

"No, I need to get up." She pushed against their grips and stumbled to her feet. She had to grasp Ned and Veronica's arms to stay up. "I have to find the balloon." She looked around, but the sky was empty.

"Marguerite," said Veronica kindly.

"Don't say it!"

"I think they're gone."

"No, they can't." She refused to believe it. How could she be the one left here? How would she live knowing John was a world away? She couldn't be left on the Plateau. She still had so much to do.

"Marguerite, I'm so sorry."

It was the look of honest regret in Veronica's eyes that convinced Marguerite of the truth. Ned's gaze was full of pity, Finn's with wariness.

"Don't be sorry, Veronica." Marguerite allowed herself to be steered in the direction of the tree house. "It's not your fault. I just don't understand."

While Finn and Malone took the dead native's weapons, Marguerite allowed Veronica to patch up her wound. They would have to wait until they got home to do a proper job of it. Until then, Marguerite was told she would have to suffer through the pain of the bullet lodged in her chest.

"So, what happened to you?" asked Finn. She walked a few feet behind Marguerite, who leaned on Veronica's arm for support. Ned walked ahead of them all, rifle handy just in case.

"What?"

Finn kept a sharp eye on the brunette. She didn't know what was going on and she wouldn't feel easy until she knew what had happened. "I don't usually see people come back from the dead. What happened?"

"I… I don't remember." There was a real note of sincerity in her voice. Finn began to relax. "I remember being separated from Joh -- from Roxton by one of those hazy time things. Then there were Druids."

"What were Druids doing on the Plateau?" asked Veronica.

Marguerite took a ragged breath, upset just by remembering. "They thought I was Morrighan, their priestess and that I was causing some storm, which is ridiculous. It was a perfect day." She laughed a bit shakily.

"And then what?" pressed Finn.

"And then they took me to a cave." She was too absorbed in recounting her experience to notice the other three exchange uneasy looks. "I told them I wasn't who they thought I was, that killing me wouldn't do any good, but they didn't believe me. They held me down on an altar and the head priest raised a dagger."

"They killed you?"

"Obviously not; I'm right here," she snapped. "I just remember one of them holding the knife above me… and then nothing."

"That's it?"

"I think so. I think I must have passed out because I think I dreamed, but I don't remember much about it."

"Well," said Veronica kindly, "we'll get you back to the tree house and cleaned up and maybe you'll remember more once you've had a rest."


	17. Chapter 17

The stars were bright, the moon almost blinding. All the lights in the tree house had long been extinguished and the residents gone to bed.

Ned and Veronica dreamed of each other from their own rooms, tiny smiles on their faces. Finn lay sprawled out and perfectly still. The only movement was her rising chest and the flicker of her eyes as she dreamed of exploring her paradise, the Plateau. Marguerite alone tossed and turned in her bed.

Her shoulder was bandaged, the bullet removed. Though she had taken painkillers, jungle remedies that Veronica had procured, she remained half in sleep and half awake. Thoughts of John disturbed as much as comforted her for each fond memory was accompanied by the knowledge that she would never see him again.

"Marguerite…" It was Roxton's voice.

She froze. There were leaves rustling and night creatures calling, but no voices.

"Marguerite, I love you."

She opened her eyes and saw the person she most longed for. He was at her door, just outside the curtains. "John?"

He smiled and came to her, sitting on the bed.

Marguerite wanted to reach out and pull him to her, to feel his hands on her body and his lips, but she held herself still.

"No kiss for me?" His wicked smile and bright eyes teased her.

"You're not real," she said sadly. Her trembling hand, the one not held to her side by bandages, reached out to him, but stopped just short of touching his chest. "As soon as I touch you, you'll disappear and then I'll have to face the reality that this is a dream."

"Maybe it's not a dream."

"Of course it is."

John reached out and held his own hand an inch from hers. "Maybe this is a vision, a premonition."

"Yeah, and maybe I'm the Maharani."

He ignored her sarcasm. "Mordred was right about one thing. You have so much power, Marguerite. I've held you back from it without even realizing it."

"No," she said vehemently. "No, you taught me so much, John." A tear slid down her cheek. "I love you. You've never held me back from anything… except my less desirable qualities."

"But I have," he insisted. "I failed you. I was afraid you would lose sight of what's important. I tried so hard to protect you from what Mordred wanted you to become that I never let you test yourself."

Marguerite smirked. "That's probably a good thing. I always failed tests."

"But don't you see? I was wrong. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for. You would have chosen the Protectors on your own if you had known your own strength."

She dipped her head. Though she still didn't remember being in Avalon, what the others told her made her ashamed of herself. "I'm not so sure."

"Well, I am. You have power that's been laying dormant since your life as Morrighan. Search for it while I search for a way back to you." From his pocket he withdrew her locket. "I have to find a way back if I'm going to give this back to you."

She shook her head. "You're home now, John. Go and live your life. I… I'll miss you, but I told you more than once that we can't have a life together."

"And I've told you a million times that I can wait you out." He leaned closer until his breath tickled the tiny hairs of her cheek. "I will have you."

That brought a smile. "Even in my dreams you're too arrogant. What makes you think you're such a great hunter, Lord John Roxton?"

"It's not arrogance. It's determination." His lips were close enough now to make her breath hitch. "I'm determined to marry you."

"John…" She couldn't resist any longer. Giving in to temptation, Marguerite touched his face with her fingertips, tracing his features. She could feel the warm skin, the tiny stubble and his pulse strongly beating. Their lips were mere centimetres apart. She closed the gap and for one wonderful moment she felt his lips moving over hers, his hands roving over her body, his body heat and firm muscle.

Marguerite's eyes snapped open. She sat up and quickly looked around her room. For a second she thought there was a figure in there with her, but it was just a shadow created by her curtains.

With a sigh, she lay back down. She pictured John's face again. As each feature took shape in her mind, she began to cry. Whether or not her dream had been more than just a dream, it had held a valid point. She would do her best to continue living and searching for a way home. It was what she needed to do and it was what John would want.

The End

*Quotations come from .com

Disclaimer: I don't make any money off this or own any characters or the storyline of The Lost World.


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